Operation Ludendorff
by CalistoMiguel
Summary: It's 1915, the Great War is about to end, when word gets out about another German plan. Aleksandar Hohenberg and Deryn Sharp, both fresh from their latest mission for the Society, are tasked with destroying the Paris Gun, a machine capable of destroying a whole city.
1. Chapter 1

_ "Barking spiders!" _

Deryn Sharp yelped as the dulled edge of Count Volger's saber narrowly missed her abdomen. Her feet shuffled backwards until the edge of a table banged against her lower back.

"Always keep your sword up!" The wild count said, stepping off for another attack.

She had started fencing lessons after her first mission for the Society, and after almost half a year, Count Volger _finally_ allowed her to cross swords. She still didn't like practicing it one bit, but fencing kept her muscles working and she always hated staying still anyways.

Deryn raised the tip of her practice foil just as Volger slashed at her again, the foil's blade ringing with the impact. The force of the hit travelled up her arm, loosening her grip on the sword's handle just enough for the man to twist his arm and aim a hit to her abdomen.

Her arm moved on its own accord, twisting at the elbow and blocking her front. The sharp metallic clang of swords colliding drove all the air out of her lungs in one breath. Deryn sucked a gulp of air before pushing off the weight of Count Volger and straightening.

"Now would be an ideal time to go for the offensive, Miss Sharp." Volger raised his saber in defense and looked down at her with apparent distaste.

Deryn flinched at his words, but kept the tip of her foil from wobbling. She shifted her back foot for a better launch and bent her knee. She sucked in a breath before launching herself forward, releasing it as her sword clanged against something.

"Good. Now riposte."

Deryn twisted her grip and thrust forward. Sweat was breaking out on her skin, running into her eyes and making her hands slippery. She tightened her grip and blinked sweat from her eyes.

"Parry, Deryn. Then lunge,"

Fencing lessons with Volger always went on in this fashion. The man barked orders at her for three straight hours, not stopping for breath or even _sweating,_ for that matter. Deryn almost felt sorry for Alek, who had endured the same treatment for more than three years.

By the time the lesson ended, her muscles screamed and her clothes were soaked in sweat underneath her stuffy fencing armour.

"Blisters," The girl mumbled and collapsed onto a padded armchair. She peeked an eye open and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Practice had started at around late afternoon, after Deryn finished walking Tazza and going through Dr Barlow's papers. It was past six now, and dinner started at seven.

Dr Barlow left for an important meeting that morning, bringing Alek and Bovril along because a lift needed fixing, and the society didn't have time to hire a Clanker engineer to fix it. Deryn knew she should get to the kitchen and start with dinner, but every muscle in her body protested when she tried to sit up.

_Just a squick of sleep won't hurt. _Deryn thought and closed her eyes. Sleep was just starting to numb her mind when she remembered who was with her.

"Dr Barlow should be back soon. I would not want to be the one caught sleeping on the job." Count Volger said, gathering the swords and discarded fencing armour and leaving the room.

Deryn glared in his direction and murmured, "Bum rag," before dragging herself to the kitchen. With slow and deliberate movements, the girl set to work on dinner. Cooking was one of the very few feminine tasks Deryn was good at, what with all the food she went through in a day.

She was setting the table when the front door clicked open, permitting a thoughtful Dr Barlow with an oil-smeared Alek in tow. Bovril was on the boy's shoulder, merrily chuckling to itself in a handful of languages.

"Good evening, ma'am. How was the meeting?" Deryn usually avoided asking questions like this, because most of the time the subject of meetings at the Society was mostly about the London Zoo; and no one wanted a full report on _that. _But the meetings always ended by noon, and the last that happened, she'd been sent on a mission for the Society.

The lady boffin was silent for a moment, her hand brushing over the front of her coat before saying, "Quite unsettling. But it would be beneficial for both of you to hear about it in my office." Then she turned and walked away, leading the way to her office.

"Unsettling," Bovril repeated.

"Aye, beastie, unsettling indeed" Deryn said, letting the Loris scamper onto her shoulder.

"It has been looking for you all morning, Deryn. I had to keep it in my jacket because it took to yelling profanities all afternoon." Alek smiled, green eyes glittering.

Deryn smiled back. Since joining the Society, Alek had slowly transitioned from the scared orphan he'd been when he first boarded the Leviathan to an average boy of sixteen. Well, as average as being a former prince of Austria-Hungary and working as a special agent for the Society could get.

When they reached her office, the lady boffin was already at her desk, a large portrait of Charles Darwin hanging on the wall behind her. She gestured for Deryn to sit on the chair opposite hers.

"I would ask you to sit down, Aleksandar, but oil unfortunately does not wash out of fabricated cotton as well as I would like."

Alek nodded, standing awkwardly beside Deryn.

Bovril, meanwhile, was busy chatting with Dr Barlow's Loris, the two perched high up the shelf of books in the office. Tazza walked up to them, whining until Deryn patted the thylacine's head.

"Quiet down, beastie" Deryn murmured, looking up.

"You were going to tell us about your meeting, ma'am?" Alek asked in his posh Clanker accent.

Dr Barlow looked up then, shaking her head a little. "Yes. Well, the Admiralty contacted the Society this morning, and they sent this letter."

She pulled a folded paper from her jacket and handed it to Deryn.

As she unfolded it, Deryn could feel Alek leaning over her. The handwriting was spindly and blots of ink adorned its edges.

"That is only a copy, of course. The original is still within the Society's walls for safe keeping."

The lady boffin's words were lost to Deryn as she read. She gripped the edges of the letter until her knuckles turned white. _Blisters._

The Germans were planning an all-out massacre.

The letter called it 'Operation Ludendorff.' A spy hidden within Germany for the past year reported a new project the Kaiser was pouring tons of gold into. The letter described it as a special sort of gun hell-bent on destroying a whole barking city. It was not unlike Mr Tesla's idea to use Goliath on Berlin, only this time there was no daft Austrian prince to save everyone.

But the letter ended there, with the writer hurriedly asking for assistance from the Admiralty.

"Are the Germans going mad?" Alek exclaimed, finally breaking the tense silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**This story was born the day after I read Goliath. The book was incredible, but the ending was almost begging to have fanfiction written for it.**

**So here's chapter two of my humble addition to the Leviathan fandom, please R&R**

Dawn was just breaking over London when Alek was roughly shaken awake. He was still blinking away sleep when he remembered what was supposed to happen.

The Admiralty was sending them to Germany today.

Alek bolted out of bed. In the dim light that filtered through the curtains, he could make out Deryn, pulling his pre-packed suitcase out from underneath his dresser. Alek turned and pulled on the clothes he'd laid out for himself on his desk. Decency was lost to him and Deryn ever since their last mission.

"G' morning, your princeliness," Deryn beamed up at him, pulling one drawer open. "Here. Best not to leave it behind," She hands Alek the hunting knife he'd gotten back in Italy. It was too dangerous to bring a fencing saber.

"Hurry it up, Mr Sharp!" Dr Barlow's voice came from down the hall.

Alek grabbed Bovril from the foot of his bed. The Loris yelled something akin to: "Barking spiders, that's rude!" Before scrambling into Alek's coat and digging its little claws into his jacket.

"Come on, Alek!" Deryn yelled, grabbing her suitcase and heading out the door. Alek grabbed his own and followed her out.

He'd never seen her excited about a mission before. Probably happy to be in the air again, Alek thought, stepping into the parlour. I know I am.

Joan and Thomas were on Dr Barlow's lap when they reached the parlour. Alek still thought it odd that the usually calculating and commanding lady boffin was a mother. When he was still a guest in the Leviathan, he'd already known about the two toddlers she had back home, but she'd never mentioned them, not once.

"You two are up early." Deryn smiled down at them. The ex-midshipman had been tasked with babysitting the toddlers when no one was available, and they'd grown quite fond of her.

"Mommy's leaving!" Joan, the older of the two screamed and pulled on Dr Barlow's necklace until Mr Barlow had to lift her up into his own arms.

"Vermin," Bovril said, quite loudly, and then cackled. Alek gave the Loris a hard look when its head popped out of his coat.

"They are a bit difficult to handle," Mr Barlow smiled and bounced Joan in his arms. "But far from vermin, Bovril." Alek smiled unsteadily.

When Alek met him, he had guessed that Mr Barlow was even more secretive and calculating, what with working as a civil servant and your wife being a boffin. But Alan Barlow was far from that. The man was open to any idea, and made it a point to show what he thought about an idea no matter who he was speaking with.

Alek thought it very strange that the man married a woman like Dr Barlow. But then again, he did give up an entire empire for Deryn, so maybe not that strange.

"A moment, Aleksandar."

A hand fell heavily on Alek's shoulder. He turned and met Volger's eyes. The man was looking out the vast window of the parlour, the same expression of distaste pulling at his features.

Just as Alek was about to pull away, the Count pushed something into his hand. It was cold and metallic. Alek wrapped his fingers around it tighter and gave a brisk nod before depositing the black revolver into the inner pocket of his jacket, next to the hunting knife.

...

Outside, a taxi was already waiting, the beast that pulled it was half- submerged in the white mist of morning. The fabricated beast was one of the newest equine breeds, its legs made from the combined Life Threads of an ostrich and a cheetah.

The eyes of the cabdriver were bright in the pale glow of the organic light, the man's eyes trained on Alek. The man opened his mouth to say something, but a look at Dr Barlow's sour expression made him shut it again.

"Beastie," Bovril popped up from the collar of Alek's jacket. The cabdriver's eyes widened at the sound and he snapped his head back to the road ahead of them.

Alek gave Bovril a hard look and stuffed him back under his coat; no need getting even more attention than he already had. He made his way to the back of the taxi, where Deryn was already pilling Dr Barlow's numerous suitcases into the back.

"Sodding boffins and their luggage," The girl grunted and pushed Alek's suitcase into the remaining space.

By the time they climbed into the taxi's compartment, Dr Barlow was riffling through a stack of papers, Tazza curled at her feet. Her Loris was in a small birdcage beside her. She rapped on the wooden bench the cabdriver sat on, the man flicking the reigns.

As the taxi trundled on the road towards the airship's docking area, the lady boffin never looked up from her papers. For the next half hour, the whole compartment was silent, save for the two chattering Loris and the occasional curse from the driver whenever the fabricated beast abruptly stopped.

"Blasted beast," the man grunted when the fabricated animal suddenly stopped, jolting the sleeping thylacine awake.

They were nearing the docking area now, the sky a blur of grey and blue above them. Airships filled the sky, their black shapes like a flock of strafing hawks soaring above London. Alek noticed the faraway look in Deryn's eyes as she looked out the window, her hand gripping the sides of the padded bench until the knuckles turned white.

Dr Barlow cleared her throat. She gave one of the papers a withering glance before passing them over to Alek. The writing was the same quick scrawl the letter was in, and even more inkblots adorned it.

It took Alek a moment to make out the words written on the paper. Alek was five when he began studying English, but he was certain than most of the words written in the paper were not words at all.

Deryn seemed to understand them though, and she exclaimed, "How in the world did he make invisible ink?"

The question hung in the air for a second, and Alek looked back down at the paper, scrutinizing the handwriting until his head started to throb. He looked up just in time to catch Dr Barlow wave her hand dismissively.

"Making invisible ink is quite simple, if not a little tedious. But that is not the point, Mr Sharp."

Dr Barlow leaned across and tapped a string of numbers scribbled at the end of the report.

"This report from the Society arrived just this morning, the decoders have figured out who sent the letter, it seems." The lady boffin tapped the pocket where the copy letter was kept by instinct, frowning.

"Only one agent working for the Admiralty is known to use invisible ink for secret messages." The lady boffin produced a fountain pen from one of the inner pockets of her pinstriped jacket. The pen's metal tip glinted in the cab's filtered light for a moment, Dr Barlow narrowing her eyes at the cabdriver before scribbling a name beside the series of numbers.

Quentin Armbrust

"German," Bovril muttered, voicing everyone's thoughts. Alek wondered how Bovril ever learned how to distinguish German surnames for a moment, and then dismissed the thought. It was supposed to be perspicacious, after all.

Then Alek realized why the lady boffin looked so disdainful at the report and frowned.

It was only a month since the Society confirmed – after months of sending agents to America to snoop around – that Mr Philip Francis, or Mr Diefendorf as he was known back in Germany, was not a German agent. Alek had thought that the lady boffin would be past suspecting every Clanker that worked for Darwinists as being an agent, but obviously he had been wrong.

"Mr Armbrust was sent to Germany six months ago, and this is the first time he's even sent any valuable information to the Admiralty, if this is real information."

"So you're telling us that the Society is sending us to barking Germany for a mission we don't even know is real?" Deryn leaned forward in her seat, not bothering to lower her voice.

Dr Barlow winced at the volume then sighed. "Yes, now please be silent. It seems that we have arrived."

The cab rolled to a stop, the cabdriver cursing up a storm.

Alek looked out the window, trying to absorb as much of the scene as he could. People were everywhere, passengers and airship officers mixing in the crowd, luggage came in all forms, suitcases, instruments, and even a large parrot Alek wasn't sure was natural of not.

Since moving to London, Alek had tried to memorize the way a crowd always worked, the people moving like the gears of a machine, all moving at the speed needed to get their task done.

Alek sighed. He could look into a crowd all he wanted, he would never catch up with Deryn and Dr Barlow's pace. He opened the door.

…..

As Alek elbowed past seemingly thousands of crate-wielding men and weaving through a maze of roped together cargo, he could just make out the biggest cargo airship, at the very edge of the docking area.

The airship's head boffin, a Mr Albert Arvid Kjellberg was friends with Dr Barlow, and allowed her passage on The Atlas, a Swedish cargo airship.

The cargo airship carried supplies all over Europe, even during wartime. Mr Kjellberg, along with being head boffin, was one of the head fabricators of the Atlas, and was known for his friendship with illustrator John Bauer. So when the airship was being made, he had designed it especially with the Life Threads of toads, snakes, and even a Proboscis Monkey to achieve the look of a Scandinavian troll.

The airship was the biggest out of all the others, but it was still dwarfed when compared to the Leviathan. The gold and green eyes of a toad bulged from a pale and warty head, the sun shining on its slimy surface. The hairs that covered its snake-like sides acted as cilia, moving even when it was tied down. On its face, a hollowed out Proboscis Monkey's nose was used as the ship's rookery, the large nostrils used as exits for the fabricated beasties. The air beast's body bulged near its head; Dr Barlow had explained that it was because the air beast's gut was used for holding cargo, and the gondola was only for the officers and crewmen's cabins, with a small section used as the bridge.

"Not very appealing to the eye really," The lady boffin had mussed as they walked up the gangplank, "but innovative just the same."

….

By midmorning, the Atlas was above the English farmlands, its shadow shrouding the acres of wheat like a dark veil. When the sun sets the airbeast would be at the English coast, beginning a full day and a half of flying over the North Sea before finally reaching German shores.

Alek had been excited to be on an airship again, but his thoughts of climbing up ratlines and going topside were shattered the moment Deryn dragged him through corridors and up the passage that should lead to the gut before getting caught.

The Swedish crewmen explained that they had strict orders to keep everyone not part of the crew away from the cargo, even if one of them was a decorated officer. Alek had realized soon after that though Dr Barlow and that head boffin were friends, the man was still wary about them getting into the airbeast.

He's afraid we might tamper the cargo! The thought struck Alek with a jolt. But it was a rational fear, of course. The Swedish were known Darwinists, but always kept away from the Great War, and poisoning German troops with their cargo would only push them into the war.

The crewmen had escorted them both to their staterooms, depositing them both in one room.

Normally, the idea of sharing a stateroom a whole trip was a welcome one, what with both of them always busy with translating important documents or walking thylacines. But with the new mission they were assigned to, Dr Barlow wanted to keep them business minded at all times.

The Atlas only had two available staterooms, and with the lady boffin adamant that they share a room, had took it upon herself to share a room with Deryn. Both the boffin and the former middy hated the idea, but said boffin hated going back on her word even more.

"I hardly think gears that minuscule could power even a runabout."

"Miniscule," Bovril murmured, rolling the new word in its mouth before coiling itself tighter around Deryn's shoulders.

Deryn rolled her eyes. "Aye, your highness, don't get your knickers in a twist."

They were inside the dark corridor that led to the rookery. No one hung a worm lamp down there, and it always smelled of clart and damp fabricated wood. But no one ever came down there, and a round window provided them a view of the white rocks of the coast, and the smudges of orange and red that served as a sunset.

Deryn was poring over her sketchbook, smudging dark and light strokes with a calloused thumb. She'd brought it along for when they were supposed to be topside, drawing the hairs that swayed and flapped on the airbeast's sides. But with them locked inside the gondola, she could only draw the exterior.

Sketches of the Atlas filled the previous pages, from its pale and warty face to the graceful arch of its spine where cargo was kept. But Deryn soon lost interest of the airbeast and started drawing from memory again.

Alek watched as her hands moved with precise and sure movements, drawing from memory the Clanker engines that helped them escape the Germans almost a year ago. The accuracy was impressive, especially since she was a Darwinist.

But that didn't stop Alek from correcting everything from the shape of the bolts holding it together to the pistons she always seemed to draw too big.

Just as the last rays of afternoon light reached to gondola's windows, Alek looked over at Deryn. The orange light fell in shards across her face, painting her blond lashes fiery red and her cropped hair golden. The light danced across the blue of her eyes, the ocean blue clashing with the fire of the light.

Alek felt his cheeks heat up.

The sharp snap! of her pencil breaking makes her look up.

"Sodding cheap pencils," she notices the look he's giving her and raises an eyebrow.

Her eyes catch the blush on his face and she smirks. "You look daft when you blush like that."

And then he kisses her, just as the sharp clack of shoes ring behind them.

**And there you have it! I left it at what I hope is a cliffhanger to keep y'all excited for the next one.**

**I pumped out all the words in my head for this chapter, you guys. **

**My updating schedule would be every weekend. Waiting for a chapter is horrible, but I'm in high school and I'm not allowed to touch the computer unless it's for school research on weekdays. **


	3. Chapter 3

Ever since that rainy topside, Deryn had realized that the only time she felt herself lose touch with the world around her when Alek kissed her.

And at that very moment, Deryn wasn't in the corridor below the_ Atlas's_ rookery. For all she knew, everything around her didn't exist. All her senses were muddled, and all she felt was Alek's lips on her own and his hair between her fingers.

Eventually, it wasn't the sound of someone clearing their throat that brought Deryn back down to the Atlas, but Alek pulling away from her. When Deryn finally opened her eyes, Alek had his back to her, facing Dr Barlow. The boy's spine was so straight Deryn thought that it would snap in two.

The last time Dr Barlow had caught them in a situation like this; the woman had only smiled and told them off for not finding a better hiding place. But now she was as cold as a statue, her face a hard mask of supressed emotions that threatened to burst.

_Blasted kissing_, Deryn stood, Bovril still balanced on her shoulder. Alek followed her up, the daft prince opening his mouth to say something when –

"Well, isn't this barking awkward," Bovril said, cackling to itself.

Dr Barlow glared daggers at the beastie before turning her gaze back onto them. "If you two would accompany me to my office; we have matters to discuss."

When the lady boffin had her back turned, Deryn gave the Loris a hard look. Bovril didn't seem to notice though, and jumped to the edge of a gondola's window, seeming not to notice the change in everyone's mood.

"Bleeding beastie," Deryn muttered. The Loris had quite the knack for saying the exact wrong thing when Dr Barlow was concerned, and it was getting to be more of a problem.

Deryn pulled at the wrinkles of her shirt and ran her fingers through Alek's tousled hair. No use passing by the airship's officers looking like she'd snogged with the whole barking ship with Dr Barlow already mad at them.

She tried to tame her curly blond hair too, before muttering a curse and giving up. She would need a haircut soon, lest everyone notice how feminine she looked with long hair. She tucked her sketchpad beneath her arm, frowning at Bovril when the beastie climbed up Alek's arm.

They caught up with Dr Barlow opening her stateroom door, the woman not bothering to check who was behind her.

Dr Barlow, being a boffin and famous granddaughter of Charles Darwin himself, had gotten the larger stateroom on the airship. All the contents of the lady boffin's luggage was already placed all around the room; the wireless clicking away on a wooden desk.

Dr Barlow gestured to the cot the airship's crew had set up for Deryn to sleep in, her suitcase open and spilling shirts and bandages all over the small expanse.

Deryn moved the clothes away and sat on the cot, Alek sitting beside her. Bovril ran down the boy's arm immediately, scampering to where Dr Barlow's Loris was perching.

The two started talking madly, spouting old conversations they'd heard until the room was filled with noise. Usually, Dr Barlow would have glared at the beasties by that time, but the lady boffin only sat on the padded desk chair, placing her hand delicately on the edge of her desk.

"Working for the Society is at times a very serious business, as you both know." She began, her face unreadable. Deryn nodded.

"And you both needed the job badly, yes? As I recall, Dylan had a few problems with working on the _Leviathan. _And Alek needed a job."

Dr. Barlow knew everything about how she was a girl that dressed up as a boy to join the air navy, and it was all thanks to the lady boffin that she wasn't rotting away in a jail cell for all the charges she no doubt would receive. She winced.

But Dr. Barlow was far from finished. "I took you both to London because I saw your work on the Leviathan, Dylan; not because of your uncanny abilities of not noticing anything whenever Alek is involved."

Deryn blushed. She hadn't meant to lose herself, it was all involuntary.

Dr. Barlow moved her disapproving gaze to Alek, and Deryn felt him flinch beside her.

"I am most disappointed at you, Alek. I had thought that you would be more responsible than this, and be the one to keep a better eye out. But I catch you initiating the very act that could get Mr. Sharp caught, if the wrong person walks in."

Alek's mouth dropped open, his face blazing red. But he shook himself out of it, saying: "Yes, ma'am."

Dr. Barlow looked at them closely, her eyes catching every nervous flinch.

When she was certain that her lecture had gotten through to them, she dug her hand into her coat pocket. She pulled out another letter, the paper still the same creamy parchment the Society liked to use. She passed it over to them, Alek opening the letter then frowning.

A series of numbers and letters were typewritten on the paper, the numbers and letters separated two at a time by a large, red dash. Deryn stared at the numbers for a second, and then recognized them as coordinates.

"Those coordinates were written in invisible ink in the same letter sent from Mr Armbrust." Dr Barlow pulled one of the desk's drawers and produced a German map. She passed it to them and Deryn spread it across the wooden floor.

It took them both a minute to align the coordinates just right. The lines intersected exactly above Bonn, one of the German cities beside the banks of the Rhine River. Deryn frowned and looked up.

It wasn't unusual that Dr Barlow let them find for the location of their mission, she'd explained that it was to train them. But the lady boffin always did so when they were only a few miles from their destination, never on a ship.

"Wouldn't it be safer that you kept this information until we arrive, ma'am?"

Dr Barlow shook her head. "That's just it Mr Sharp. I am not coming with you on this mission. The Admiralty asked specifically for you both to handle this mission."

"Then where are you to go, if you are not going to accompany us?" Alek asked, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"France. The Society wanted me to investigate something they thought as strange in one of the old coal mines." Dr Barlow leaned down and folded the map up again, signifying the end of that conversation.

"This airship will only be docking in Hamburg for twenty-four hours, all following war-time protocol. Mr Armbrust has asked for you to meet him in Bonn, which is almost 500 kilometres from the Hamburg airship docks.

"You will take one of the trains to Bonn, and when you arrive, you must look for the location of the next coordinates."

The lady boffin opened another drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope. "This envelope contains a hundred pounds, exactly. The Society will only allow you to use it for emergencies, and expects at least twenty percent returned."

Deryn blinked. The Society never gave them an allowance for their missions before, and never one so _barking big._

"Do you understand?"

Deryn stood up and nodded. "Yes ma'am, we understand."

"Very well, Alek, you may return to your stateroom." Alek nodded and snapped for Bovril, the Loris clambering back onto his shoulder. Dr Barlow followed him out the door.

When the lady boffin returned, Deryn was getting ready for bed. Deryn looked up from undoing her bindings and saw Dr Barlow sit at the desk and listen in on the continuous clicks from the wireless.

"Aren't you going to get some sleep, ma'am?"

The lady boffin looked up from the paper she was writing the messages on and waved a hand. "We need to be on our best guard, Dylan. You never know where a spy could be lurking." And then Dr Barlow smiled, the smile meaning anything.

And as Deryn fell asleep, her last fading thought was that she could've sworn Count Volger said the very same thing, and then she was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing apart from the plot and all future OCs**

**A/N: This is one of my longer chapters, because I promised action, and there will be, after a boat load of intro before all the good stuff happens.**

**Oh, and I'm cutting out most of the minor characters out of this fic because I'm planning on more than one OC, and writing them with all the original characters is gonna take a lot of time. **

**And I'd thought that with Sweden as a neutral country and all, they would be allowed to deliver cargo to Germany. (The Atlas is a cargo ship, after all.) The Russians needed supplies from the Ottoman Empire during Behemoth, and they were already at war during that time, so yeah. I'm still not fully sure about much of the history I've researched for this fic, so feel free to correct any mistakes.**

**Thanks to all the people who viewed and reviewed this story so far, it helps a lot!**

"Mr. Sharp, Dylan, _Deryn_!"

Deryn sat up from bed, hands immediately searching for her rigging knife. She found it below the cot she slept in and held it tight in her hands. "What's happening?"

Dr. Barlow was standing at her desk, the practiced mask of aloofness plastered onto her face. Deryn had learned that whenever the lady boffin never showed even irritation on her face, that she was holding in very strong emotions.

And calling her barking _Deryn _out loud was a clue too.

"Wake Aleksandar up and return here; and do so covertly, Mr. Sharp." The woman's tone made Deryn scramble out of bed and pull her suitcase open.

Deryn dug around for her bindings and wound them around her chest until they pinched much more than she was used to. Her hands found one of her old Midshipman jackets and she threw it over the shirt she'd worn to bed. The rigging knife she tucked into the band of her trousers, the leather sheath's familiar weight on her hip a comfort.

The door to the stateroom was locked, and after a good scan of the room, Deryn noticed the little key on the desk. She grabbed the key in her hand and inserted it into the lock.

Just as the door clicked open, Deryn spared a look back at Dr Barlow. The lady boffin was digging in one of the desk's drawer's again, the woman's back to the opening stateroom door. Deryn pulled the key from the lock and stepped out into the corridor.

Alek's room was just beside theirs, and seemed like a large broom closet, not a Swedish cargo airship's stateroom. Deryn gave the fabricated wood of his door a sharp knock then jiggled the brass handle. Locked.

Deryn was glad she kept the key now, and inserted it into the lock.

She had only been in Alek's room once during their trip, when she helped him rescue a message lizard that had managed to jam itself into the message lizard tube in the stateroom. Deryn had commented that it was small then, but it was when she swung the door open that she realized _how_ small it was.

The door's edge banged against the iron bedframe of the bed, sending a sharp ring throughout the little room. Deryn was certain that the sound reached the end of the corridor, where crew members keeping watch on the cargo in the airbeast's gut surely heard them.

Deryn swore and stepped into the stateroom. Dr. Barlow was going to skin her alive for this.

"_Mein Gott!" _

"Change," Deryn mouthed, gesturing to her clothes. Alek scrambled out of bed and Deryn turned, opening the door a squick. The corridor was empty.

Apart from the fact that the bed was close enough to the door to be hit when it was swung open too hard, the small space of floor that served as all the room was only about two feet wide. Alek was quickly changing in that small space, and when Deryn stepped away from the door, one of his elbows jabbed her in the back.

"Sorry," Alek whispered and tucked the hunting knife into his belt. The boy grabbed Bovril from the foot of his bed where the beastie was still sleeping. Whatever the Loris was about to say was muffled between the folds of Alek's clothes.

Deryn stuck her head out the door and looked out into the corridor. She focused on the shadows that crisscrossed the corridor, her eyes straining to make out the strange shape of a crew member. When she was certain that nothing was hiding in the shadows, she got out of the room and gestured for Alek to come out.

When they reached the next stateroom, Dr. Barlow barely looked up at them. This must be some mission. Dr. Barlow never missed out on a chance to get mad at them before.

The lady boffin looked up from the codes she'd written and regarded them sternly. "Don't think I didn't hear that bang from the other room, Dylan. I'm still reprimanding you for it, but at a later date."

Deryn nodded. It wasn't the first time the lady boffin had postponed scolding them for more important reasons.

"It seems that there is a spy among us." Dr. Barlow picked up one of the papers on her desk and showed them a code she'd translated. _Diest ist Schneider_

Those three words were repeated a few times, once or twice the word _kopie _ended the string of words. Deryn's eyes flitted to the series of dots and dashes these had come from, then the code Dr. Barlow had deciphered to get the message.

Jaspert had told her that cargo ships always transmitted information about their trip to other countries back to their homelands. But the messages they sent were always in their native language, and no one bothered with codes when all they were talking about was cargo. 

The German was simple enough for Deryn to understand immediately. Of course, a boffin and a former prince getting on a Swedish cargo ship wouldn't be hard to notice, no matter how the Society tried to hide it. And German spies were everywhere nowadays; Dr. Barlow had stopped hiring maids to work for her for that very reason.

"He hasn't sent any information away yet, just signals to inform the men waiting in Hamburg. And he hasn't mentioned the airship he's on, a very stupid move, in my opinion—"

Deryn couldn't hold back anymore. "But it could be anyone that sent that message, ma'am. How would—"

"It would be best, Mr. Sharp, to never interrupt me." Dr. Barlow cut her off, "and you do not need to find whoever this Schneider man is, you just have to stop him from broadcasting."

…

Deryn couldn't help smiling to herself as they sneaked down the corridor to the hatch that would take them to the rookery. She knew it was barking dangerous slipping out onto an airbeast at night without anyone knowing, and the rules were basically being ripped to shreds with the airbeast belonging to a different country all together.

It's a good thing I work for the Zoological Society, Deryn thought.

Dr. Barlow had been right; the corridor leading to the rookery was empty. Not even one worm lamp was lit, and everything was bathed in shadows. Only the light from the night sky that filtered through the circular windows showed Deryn indication that they were actually getting close to the end.

The familiar dead end of the corridor was even darker than the rest of the space, and Deryn itched for her command whistle to whistle for some light. But the ghostly green light the worm lamps emitted would be too noticeable, and neither of them wanted to be noticed.

Deryn grabbed hold of metal rungs that ran up the wall of the dead end and pulled herself up, the cold seeping through her gloves and into the skin of her hands. The ladder ran through the airbeast, into its flesh then to its large nose, where the rookery was.

The ladder continued up into the airbeast, the rungs protruding from mottled pink flesh. When the ladder ended, Deryn searched for the hatch. Her hands pressed into the worn surface and pushed, biting her lip at the slight metallic creak. When the opening was big enough, Deryn wriggled through the hatchway, hands grabbing at the roughened floor of the rookery.

Alek followed soon after, swearing when his foot caught on one of the rungs.

The _Atlas's_ rookery was much smaller compared to the _Leviathan's,_ and the smell of fabricated bird clart was almost unnoticeable with only two fabricated birds left in the cages. The floor ended beside one of the cages, and a metal walkway led to the single door that led to the open sky.

"We need to hurry, that German spy could be transmitting our location by now." Deryn quickened her pace, ignoring the sound of metal straining beneath her.

She slid the bolt that held the door in place and the door swung open. Cold night air snaked fingers through her old uniform, and she shivered. She stepped onto the small metal walkway that crew members used to launch the bigger fabricated beasties. The walkway was only two feet wide, and the membrane of the airbeast's nose had no handholds.

Deryn looked down_. It's a long drop, and I don't even have a safety line._

The airbeast's clammy skin was pressed tightly onto Deryn's back, the strong headwind keeping her from falling over. Memories of feeding the fléchette bats of the _Leviathan_ pushed any thought of toppling over and crashing into the sea below from Deryn's head. Almost.

When the walkway ended, ratlines appeared in Deryn's view.

The only problem was that there was an eight feet jump between the edge of the walkway and the nearest ratline. Deryn swore, the foul words carried away by the wind.

She'd jumped farther, of course. But it wouldn't do well to suddenly disappear into the gloom and leave the dafty Alek worrying about her.

Deryn looked back. Alek was a few feet away from her, the boy struggling to stop himself from looking down. Deryn took his arm and gestured to the empty space. "Can you jump that far?"

His face paled at the sight of the roiling sea beneath them, but managed to nod. "I suppose so."

When she reached the walkway's edge, Deryn pushed the hair from her face. She took a fortifying breath of cold air and jumped, vaulting herself across the empty expanse.

She was floating for a moment, her body lighter than air. Then she felt the airflow pull at her clothes and she slammed against the airbeast's flank, the tiny cilia tickling her face through the ratlines. She felt herself slipping off the side, and she grabbed the ratlines.

The ropes ripped through her gloves, the smell of burning leather penetrating her nostrils. Deryn looked down at her hands. The gloves were far from repairable, but at least her hands were safe.

"Barking spiders," Deryn swore and pulled herself out of the way. She looked across and met Alek's gaze from the other side. She hooked her legs and an arm around the ratlines, the other she extended to him.

Alek jumped, his arms flailing for a handhold. One hand managed to grab a hold of the ratlines and a bunch of the cilia underneath, the other pulled so tight at her outstretched hand Deryn was sure her shoulder would've been dislocated if he'd pulled any harder.

"Are you alright?" He looked shaken, but he managed to give her one of the smiles that sent her mooning like one of the lassies back home. Deryn rolled her eyes.

Deryn spotted riggers at the airbeast's tail, the mass of hydrogen sniffers and their handlers congregating near a tear in the membrane. They were too far to notice them, but it didn't stop Deryn from quickening her pace.

They climbed the ratlines across the airbeast's flank, the ropes growing hot between her ruined gloves. Deryn kept an eye on where she was holding, lest she miss a ratline and go tumbling down.

After what felt like hours, they were finally above the gondola. Deryn gave a whoop of joy and slid down the few feet of rope left, her feet planting on the gondola's roof.

They were directly above the bridge. A glimmer of silver caught Deryn's eye, and sure enough, the source was the wireless antennas.

The wire spread across the bridge's roof, and Deryn counted twelve separate antennas attached. The wire led down into a small slit in the roof, where the wire was spliced into three separate radios. And one of those radios was transmitting _very_ important information.

Deryn pulled out her rigging knife and started cutting the wire where it was spliced with another. Dr. Barlow had assured her that the officers would always assume that it was the wind that had split the wires.

Beside her, Alek kept watch over the signal patch. He kept a hand at her back, just in case the captain suddenly changed course or the engines went full speed. A force that sudden could sent her toppling off the gondola.

Once the wire was cut and Deryn had reassured herself that the German spy had been too late, they made their way back to the ratlines.

Deryn hung limply from the ratlines; relishing the familiar feeling of the wind in her hair and the slight pulsating of the airbeast beneath her gloved palms. They were finally nearing the space between the ratlines when Alek swore. Deryn managed to turn to the direction he was pointing at a second before the motivator engines changed in pitch.

The signal patch was bright red.

Deryn felt Alek's arm reaching across to hold her steady, but she knew it would be too late.

The airbeast surged forward, cilia flapping madly at its flanks. It was slower that the Leviathan but Deryn was hanging on with only her fingertips.

Her whole body was flung to the side. The ratlines burned her exposed palms, the front of her shirt ripping against the rough fibres of the rope. Her fingers were beginning to loosen when a hand clasped the back of her jacket.

Alek swore as he pulled her up, his hand grabbing even the bindings underneath her clothes.

Deryn scrambled to grab onto the ropes. The moment her hands closed around one though, a searing pain rushed through her arm. She looked down at her hands.

The gloves clung to her hands by only her fingers, the material gone when it came to her palms; as though she'd tied on some old fabricated animal hide onto her hands and went on a romp across the whole airbeast's flank. The tough material was burned right through, and blood seeped through the ripped edges. Deryn's left hand had taken the worst of it though, and she could feel a trickle of blood run down her arm as she held her arms up to climb.

"Here," Alek said, pulling the piloting gloves from his hands and handing them to Deryn when he noticed the wounds.

She flexed her fingers inside the gloves and winced. "You'll need to wash the blood out these, mind."

**A/N: And there it is! It seemed that Alek almost always gets hurt during action scenes in the books, so I switched their places. This is the first action scene I've written for a fic, so please leave a review and tell me what you think! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**A/N: Semester break is ending today, so chapter updates will follow the same weekend schedule set for the first two.**

**And thanks to my new Beta, the famous Julia456! **

"You look fine."

"My appearance hardly matters, Dylan. It's this horrid hair dye; it itches."

Alek ran a hand through his newly-dyed hair. Dr. Barlow had told him to dye it because she was worried that with Eddie Malone publishing Alek's picture a while back, the German spy on board, everyone in Germany would be on the lookout.

So the lady boffin had brought a bottle of powdered yellow pigment gathered from a fabricated plant back in London. The pigment was supposed to be dissolved in water then rubbed into the scalp, and the color lasted for forty-eight hours.

That was all fine with Alek, just as long as the blasted hair dye stopped making his head itch!

Deryn laughed and ruffled Alek's blond hair. "At least it's not permanent. And anyways, it suits you."

Alek raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Aye, it makes you look like a bonny lass." Alek rolled his eyes.

For the first time since they got aboard the _Atlas_, Dr. Barlow had turned a blind eye to their sneaking out during the day. Alek imagined that the lady boffin knew it was useless to keep them both apart, since they would be alone in Germany a few hours from now.

And without the lady boffin breathing down their necks, Deryn had been allowed to spend the rest of their stay on the Swedish ship in Alek's stateroom. That was one thing Alek was glad for, considering that the Admiralty was sending them to help a spy no one was sure could be trusted.

"I wish I'd my hair earlier, then. Perhaps during the New Year's Eve party."

A smirk pulled at the corners of Deryn's mouth. "Count Volger would've speared you twice with your own fencing sabre before you stepped out of your hotel room." She sat up, moving to sit beside him, shoulders touching.

Alek shrugged, "It would be quite the spectacle."

"Aye, and you would've missed my costume."

"Lad in a dress," Bovril chuckled from the floor, the beast curling around Alek's suitcase.

Alek felt his cheeks grow warm. _Verdammt._

"Yes, that would have been unfortunate." The image of Deryn in a dress was still fresh in Alek's mind and so was the hour or two alone in the changing rooms with her; so maybe more than just unfortunate. _Depressing _would have been more appropriate, but Alek didn't say that out loud.

Deryn must've caught the blush on his face, because her smirk blossomed into a bright smile. Alek felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, and it took everything in him to keep the innocent look on his face.

"Is the door locked?"

Her eyes flicked to the door.

"Why? Should it be?"

She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft, gentle; like the one they'd shared on the _Leviathan's_ topside. Alek's stomach twisted and when he opened his eyes – he never realized he'd closed them – Deryn was smirking down at him, the question still unanswered.

"Yes, it's locked. Can we please continue?"

She let out a laugh and leaned forward again. Her hands immediately went to his hair, where her fingers started pulling on the strands lightly. Alek rested his hands on her waist gingerly, leaning back until his back met the wall beside the bed.

Alek was twelve when his father hired Otto Klopp and the man taught him to pilot. Years of tentative pulling and pushing at saunters taught Alek to sharpen his senses, even during ordinary days. He could taste the apple left on Deryn's lips after their quick breakfast in the middies' mess that morning. Could feel the slight sway of the gondola as it moved through miles of sky; even the soft creaking of boots outside –

"Blisters!"

The hands twining in his hair let go immediately, Deryn pulling them back to inspect them. Blood was seeping through the bandages, the rope burns reopening underneath. Deryn winced, undoing the bandages.

"Barking –"

Alek placed a hand over her mouth by instinct, silencing her words. The creaking outside had stopped, the person either gone or was listening. Alek hoped it was the former.

Dr. Barlow had warned them about this. They were successful in stopping the German spy on board's attempt at transmitting their location, but that didn't mean he was giving up. He would still try to learn as much as he could about them. And Alek was certain that the moment the _Atlas_ landed in Hamburg that German spy would be running to his comrades, a report about the former Austrian prince in hand.

Deryn must have remembered too, and she grew still. Alek was glad Bovril had fallen asleep, the beastie was getting more and more difficult to handle these days, especially when it came to talking at the wrong time.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the creaking started up again.

They stayed frozen until the creaking pattered out. When Bovril's tail tapping on the fabricated floor was all they heard, Deryn finally let out the curse she'd held in.

"Blistering bandages," She winced as she pulled at the bandages, the tacky cloth sticking to the delicate scabs forming.

Alek bit his lip at blood running down Deryn's hand and got up. The wound would need another coating of salve for it to close, and all the medicine was with Dr. Barlow. He hoped she wouldn't be too mad at them for this, but strongly doubted it. She had told Deryn not to reopen the wound, what with all the crewmen keeping an eye on them since the wireless antennas were damaged.

After helping Deryn with her shoes and deciding that he would leave Loris in his room, Alek unlocked the door.

"Oh, Aleksandar, it's good you're here. I was hoping to find Mr. Sharp with –"The lady boffin was right at his door, a gloved hand raised to knock on the previously locked door. Her eyes locked onto Deryn, then at her bleeding wound.

The woman narrowed her eyes at her, but kept her tone light. "Mr. Kjellberg has informed me that the Atlas is about to land." With a delicate flick of her hand, Dr. Barlow gestured to the porthole in Alek's stateroom.

The Elbe River glistened below them, its rapid currents flashing in the sun. They would be landing in the largest port in Germany, or as the locals call it, Germany's "Gateway to the World."

Alek had a fleeting memory of his parents telling him about a trip they'd taken when Alek was only a toddler. According to them, he had tried to squeeze through the railing of the steamboat that was to take them to the very same port's harbour.

"Mr. Hohenberg," Dr. Barlow began, shaking Alek from his thoughts. "I trust that you have finished packing your suitcase? Also, my breakfast was not sent to me this morning, so if you please."

The words made his breath hitch in his throat, like a walker had his lungs in its grip. But a sharp needle of excitement cut through his nerves, and he found himself smiling slightly.

The lady boffin flicked her gaze to the Alek's room and he shrunk a little beneath her steady gaze. He hoped that she wouldn't notice the discarded shirt and jacket from last night lying on the floor. But Dr. Barlow noticed everything, and when her eyes landed on the clothes, she only turned her attention back onto Deryn.

The girl was folding her hands behind her back, mercilessly pressing the bloody bandages to stop the blood from flowing anymore. "And I believe Tazza is in need of a walk, Dylan. And make sure he will not see any of the sights below, it makes him quite rambunctious."

Deryn nodded. "Yes, ma'am," She pressed the bandage tighter onto the open wound.

The lady boffin gave Alek a brisk nod as she walked away, Deryn in tow. Alek closed the door with a click, grabbing his jacket and looking down at the suitcase half- filled with clothes that barely fit him. He had work to do.

He rummaged through the clothes and looked for the revolver Volger had given him. He slipped the revolver into the inside pocket of his jacket, the metal clinking with the hunting knife already inside. Alek was glad it was the start of autumn; he would have an excuse for using a scarf.

His hands closed around a newsboy cap, the headgear bought by Dr. Barlow specifically to hide his dyed hair. He rammed the hat onto his head, stuffing as much of his hair into its brim. The scarf would serve to cover the nape of his neck, and to hide as much of his face when he stepped off into the crowd.

The last thing to worry about was the bottle of powdered yellow pigment. Alek frowned, where was he supposed to keep this?

After some fussing with his old threadbare coat, Alek managed to tuck it into a pocket without it looking like he was hiding a whole fencing saber inside his clothes.

The shirts he threw back into the suitcase, snapping the metal latches closed and tucking it beneath his bed. He wouldn't need the rest of the items inside; they were all for show anyway.

Alek picked Bovril up from the floor, placing the Loris on his shoulder. The beastie curled around his neck, plastering the scarf tighter. Alek closed the door to his stateroom, quickly ascending the stairs.

He passed corridors, missing the galley, until he reached the hatch to the airbeast's gut. It was sweltering beneath all the clothes, and Bovril's weight on is shoulder made it hard to keep his face passive as he passed crewmen along the way.

Mr. Kjellberg was waiting for him beneath the hatch, the man tapping his foot uneasily. The head boffin was one of the young ones Alek had previously met during his days in the Society, and the man gave him a small smile as he neared.

"Good morning, sir." Alek bowed at the waist, trying not to show how nervous he actually was. The last mission he had was with Dr. Barlow guiding him, he was all alone now.

"To you as well, Mr. Hohenberg," The man bowed as well and smiled warmly, but his eyes wandered around the corridor. "Where is the other boy? Is he not coming?"

Alek thought of Deryn, getting her hand bandaged again in Dr. Barlow's stateroom. "Mr. Sharp will come shortly after me, sir."

"Mr. Sharp," Bovril whispered in Alek's ear. Wonderful, the beast was awake again.

Mr. Kjellberg didn't seem to notice though, and nodded slowly. He reached up and pushed the hatch open.

"Well, go on," He bent at the knee, cupping his hands to give Alek a leg up. Alek wanted to decline at first, then decided that it would be rude and stepped into the man's cupped hands, crawling through the hatchway.

As Alek looked through the hatchway to close it up again, he found himself meeting Mr. Kjellberg's gaze.

"Good luck out there, Aleksandar." The man smiled, and Alek closed the hatch up again.

Alek stood up on the aluminium walkway of the gut. The stark white of the airbeast's spine and ribs shone through the green worm light, illuminating the mottled pink flesh.

Most of the crewmen were topside or on hard ground, where they would help with pulling the _Atlas_ into the port. A few stayed with the cargo, the men checking on the ropes that held the barrels and crates together.

No one noticed Alek head to one of the crates near a corner where the walkway ended and only soft flesh was left to step on.

Alek winced as his foot sunk into the flesh slightly. He could make out Bovril chuckling to itself on his shoulder, and he stuffed it back into his clothes. The crate was a particularly big one, and was branded with their location: Bonn.

He wondered how the Society was able to come up with this with only a day of preparation, and most of that time spent on decoding Mr. Armbrust's letter. But then he remembered that Dr. Barlow would have been helping them.

Heaven knows what she does when she stays up all night, Alek thought. And to come out looking like she'd slept for a decade was beyond him.

The crate's lid came off without too much noise, and Alek slipped into the dark vastness of the crate.

**A/N: And there you have it!**

**Julia456 suggested a few changes on the previous chapters, so here they all are, all listed down so you don't have to reread the whole thing:**

**Chapter 3: I added a bit more dialogue with Dr. Barlow, and fixed Deryn and Dr. Barlow's OOC-ness.**

**Chapter 4: Added a bit more to their action scene, and changed how Deryn didn't have any gloves on. I cut out some of their dialogue,too.**

**That seems about it, so see you guys in the next chapter! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And I'm back!**

**This chapter took more than a month to get finished just because school's starting pick up again and I'm positively SWAMPED with projects. But some good news though: this chapter will finally have Alek and Deryn in Germany! Woohoo! Anyways, I can't keep that one week a chapter schedule anymore, because school's _that_ hard.**

**Anyways, Julia456 beta'd this chapter like a boss and I got to upload it today instead of next week. She also pointed out a historical error about when euros were invented, so that's awesome too. **

****Oh, and to whoever's been waiting for this chapter, you should thank Ninjacrab for messaging me to update.(Even though it still took me like 2 more weeks to do so.) And to mandaao and Clevingerrr for reviewing.****

**So, without much further ado, I present to you all... Chapter 6!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

><p>It was sweltering inside the crate, and Bovril's weight on Alek's lap wasn't helping a bit.<p>

He sat across from Deryn, who'd arrived with the allowance from the Society in a sealed envelope. The pounds had already been converted into German Marks at the last minute, and the extra notes were threatening to burst out of its paper confines.

A particularly fast descent rattled the crate. Alek braced himself against its sides.

The Atlas was quickly descending, and he guessed that it wouldn't be long until the cargo would be unloaded.

Alek leaned back, sighing. The muffled footsteps and distant shouts outside were a reminder of the secrecy of this mission, and talking was strictly restricted to hushed whispers, and only when necessary. Alek understood that everything was riding on them getting onto a train to Bonn without a hitch, but boredom was inevitable.

Across from him, Deryn mopped up the sheen of sweat on her forehead and closed her eyes. Her knees were tucked under her chin, her spine arched to accommodate her height.

Sleep was always an option, of course. But it always seemed to evade him during times like these, no matter what he tried.

Another sigh threatened to escape his lips. He gently lifted the sleeping Loris from his lap and placed it on his discarded coat, the beast's tail curling around the jar of pigment.

Alek dug around the pockets of his jacket. His fingers closed around the cold metal of the revolver. Volger had given it to him the day they'd left.

That misty morning seemed so long ago now; the cursing cabdriver and Dr. Barlow's children most of what Alek remembered. He recalled feeling overwhelmed by the speed of events, and forgot all about Count Volger and his parting gift.

He pulled the gun out, running his fingers across its surface. It was gloomy inside the crate, with only the eerie light from the worm lamps outside cutting through the darkness.

Alek recognised the Hapsburg crest meticulously moulded onto the revolver's handle, his fingers running across the familiar two-headed eagle. He guessed that it was another one of the things Volger had brought from Austria when they had left more than a year ago.

His fingers found a slight indentation at the base of the gun's handle. He lifted it up to a small sliver of light, his eyes widening when he took in the engraving: Franz F.

The gun suddenly weighed a ton in Alek's hands, his grip on it slipping. He managed to hold onto it before it hit the floor, gripping it so tightly the edges pierced into his skin painfully.

Alek wondered how Volger had managed to pull one more secret from all the others he had already kept, and for so long. But the wildcount was still keeping an eye on him even though he was as common as any boy in the world, and that was a secret in itself.

Another sharp jolt shook Alek from his thoughts. He slipped the gun back into his pocket, bracing himself against the crate walls, his father's gun momentarily forgotten.

The shaking was strong enough to wake Deryn from her slumber, her head banging painfully against the crate's cover.

Alek heard men cursing through the wooden walls. Outside, the cacophony of banging wood and snapping ropes bounced around the airbeast's gut.

Bovril woke up at once, the Loris clambering up Alek's arm. The Loris stayed silent, its small arms clamping it in a vice-like grip, its large eyes wide.

A cold stone of anxiety formed in Alek's stomach. What if that German spy had managed to send word to Hamburg's authorities? For all they knew, a fleet of soldiers could be waiting for them down below, armed with gleaming walkers.

The thought made his limbs grow heavy.

But as soon as it had started, the shaking stopped. The whole airship was still, and Alek couldn't help but hold his breath.

No Klaxon rang. Soon, the familiar sounds of men working filled the air again. The creaking sound of a large door opening came from the other side of the gut, the wind whistling past and into the large space.

Alek let out a sigh of relief, prying Bovril from his sleeve and setting it onto his lap. He turned to Deryn.

Her face was pale in the cracks of green worm light. Both of her bandaged hands were rubbing on the crown of her head, where she'd hit it earlier. Her mouth moved to whisper something when a voice rang out, the owner seemingly standing next to them.

Alek didn't speak any Swedish, so the words were lost to him. But the answering shouts sounded like the German word for yes - albeit with a strange accent- so he guessed that the words were an order of some sort.

Almost immediately, the sounds outside grew louder, and it wasn't long before the crate they were in was hauled onto a sturdy trolley. Crates were stacked above their own, and Alek could make out the men outside throwing rope nets over the cargo to stop them from falling over.

The trolley, after what seemed like ages of the men huffing and puffing beside them, arrived at one of the built-in doors of the Atlas's gut. Cool air blew through the crate's slits, bringing the smell of oil and machines with it. Bright morning light flooded through the crate as they neared the ground, the trolley sliding slowly down a ramp.

Alek braced against the jostling, his back aching against the crate's walls. Men were right beside them, their hands keeping the other crates steady unless one would decide to slip out of the rope net's protection.

When they reached the port, an old walker was already waiting, a chain attached to a trolley half filled with crates. The men pulled the net from the cargo and quickly walked back up the ramp.

The walker began to load the crates, its gears groaning with the strain. Its arm swung above them, the metal claw opening wide. The claw's weight fell on the crate's cover, the wood groaning. Then its three fingers tightened, and Alek could feel them being lifted up.

Alek's vision swayed as the arm moved swiftly to the trolley it carried. Everything seemed to slant, and he slid across the crate's small space. His shoulder connected with one of the crate's walls hard, the force running up his arm. Bovril huddled into his lap, its eyes wide.

The claw let go of their crate with a three feet distance from the trolley below, and a muffled boom rang in Alek's ears as the wood smacked against the trolley's metal surface.

It took a while for the walker to finish loading the trolley up, the sound of wood cracking whenever a crate was dropped in beside them. Finally, after the last echo of wood almost splintering, the walker started moving, the trolley trailing behind it. A shudder passed the trolley after every step the walker took.

The loud rasp of gears grew louder as they neared a big steam train, its black surface gleaming in the sun. Its cargo arms were stretched outwards, the claws pulling cargo from a compartment and placing them onto waiting trolleys. Meanwhile, another arm hovered above trolleys filled with cargo from the Atlas, the claws filling the train's compartments up again. Farther onwards, people spilled from the train's open passenger doors, their hands full of suitcases.

The Voyager was etched into the train's side in bold letters.

"Voyager," Bovril mumbled, pressing its face into the crate's wall. Alek scratched its ears, feeling the Loris calm down beneath his hand.

One of the train's arms moved to their trolley. The claw loomed above them before lowering, the three claws closing around the crate beside them. Alek watched as the arm moved to drop the crate into one of the compartments, the gears moving in perfect synch.

Another of the four cargo arms stretched out toward them, the claw lowering. A shudder passed through the crate as the rubber-tipped ends of the claw closed around it. The arm raised them up into a slow arch, the world outside blurring.

When it had set them down, Deryn had already started to sleep again; her form slumped in a corner. Alek stayed up until the compartment doors closed and the steam engines roared to life.

* * *

><p>"Wake up, Alek." Someone was shaking him.<p>

Alek opened his eyes. Deryn was in front of him, her blond hair cutting through the gloom. Bovril was perched on her lap, the beast's eyes reflecting the little light that came through the crate's walls.

"What time is it?" Alek asked, rolling his aching shoulders. He was still terribly tired, and nothing but sleep seemed important now.

"Noon, probably; we were asleep for quite a while." Deryn sat up straighter, handing Alek his discarded clothes. She stuffed Bovril into her jacket, the Loris spewing muffled curses of surprise. The crate groaned as she raised her bandaged hands to the crate's cover.

Alek groggily pulled his coat on, the glass jar of yellow pigment clinking against the wooden floor. He rolled the rest of his clothes and packed them into his pockets, adding even more weight.

"Look lively, your princeliness. Your new locks won't fool anyone if you still sound like Clanker royalty." Deryn said, pushing at the crate's cover.

Light spilled into the crate, illuminating each swirling pattern on the wooden walls. Alek blinked the last vestiges of sleep away and looked over the crate's edge.

The light was actually very dim the longer Alek looked, and came from numerous rectangular windows that ran along one wall of the train carriage. All around them barrels and crates rocked with each pull from the steam engines.

Deryn craned her neck to look behind them before swinging a leg over the crate's edge. Alek followed, his feet unsteady on the uneven floor of rope nets thrown atop a cluster of rocking barrels. He closed the crate up again before slowly walking across the uneven floor.

They passed crates jingling with loose mechanical parts before jumping down to the small sliver of space left as a walkway. The wood floors creaked beneath their feet as they landed, the crates around them swaying.

Alek reached the compartment door first, his hands sliding the metal door open.

Cold air rushed at his face. The German countryside rushed by outside, farm tractors black splotches against the gold of the wheat fluttering in the breeze. A nearby city was ahead of them, the train tracks winding into its dark depths.

The bright red door of the next carriage swayed in front on him. A metal strip three feet long stretched between the two carriages, a bolted lock keeping them together. It shuddered with each pull of the engines, and moisture glistened on its surface.

Alek gingerly placed a foot on the welded metal. The shudders shook up the length of his leg like tendrils of electricity from the Goliath. Train tracks blurred below his feet, the metal winding like a snake around the land. Alek bit his lip and edged closer, cursing his heavy clothes and hoping that the wind wouldn't catch and pull him over.

It seemed like ages of wind blurring his vision had passed when Alek finally reached the other door. His fumbling hands found the handle and he pulled the door open. He stepped inside the next carriage, Deryn following behind him. She closed the door and stood beside him, surveying their surroundings.

Padded benches ran along the walls, their plush red covers worn and rumpled. Light spilled from large windows behind them, casting dark shadows everywhere. Passengers crowded around the benches, their luggage clunking above them on brass racks. No one seemed to mind them, except for a group of tittering schoolgirls sitting right beside the door.

An attendant was pushing a cart piled high with food near the opposite door of the carriage, his little red cap bobbing among the dark grey of the passengers' clothes. Alek's stomach growled at the thought of the stacks of pre-made sandwiches and delicate cakes.

Deryn led the way through the crowd, her jabbing elbows and hurried apologies hinting at how accustomed she was to huge crowds. Alek wasn't as good with crowds as she was though, and was squished between people for most of the way.

When they reached the attendant, most of Alek's clothes were already soaked with sweat and his hair fell into his eyes in damp stringy clumps. He hoped that what Dr. Barlow had said was true; and that the pigment wouldn't wash out and color his sweat a bright yellow.

"Finally," Deryn sighed. She looked across at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Are you sure about this? I'm quite sure that you could manage –"

"It's going to be fine, as long as you don't sound like a barking prince." Deryn smiled and pushed the envelope of money into his pocket.

That day in the marketplace of Lienz flashed in Alek's mind as he walked closer. He'd gotten better at purchasing things as of late; but that had been in London, where everyone knew who he was and he didn't need to hide his true identity.

"Would you like to buy something, sir?"

Alek blinked, the German sounding foreign to his ears for a second. The attendant was looking expectantly at him, a practiced smile on the man's face. Alek let his lips curl into an easy smile, his hands fingering a bill from the envelope hidden in the outer pocket of his coat.

"Two cups of coffee and three sandwiches, please." Alek pulled the bill from his pocket, desperately hoping that things wouldn't go pear-shaped, as Deryn would put it.

The attendant took the money without even pausing to look across at him, the man's eyes focused on counting out his amount of change. He took three paper-wrapped sandwiches from a stack on the cart and poured steaming black coffee into two cups. Alek picked the food and coins up and couldn't help the grin from spreading across his face as he neared Deryn, who was quietly suffering through a conversation with an elderly woman that sat beside her.

Her lips pulled into a smile when she met his eyes, and she hastily excused herself in German.

"See? The whole world didn't explode, now did it?" Deryn said, taking two of the sandwiches. She calmly stuck one into jacket, where Alek saw Bovril's little arms reach out to grab hold of it.

They ended up sitting in one of the benches near the middle of the carriage, between a gaggle of children and a sleeping woman. The city blurred by outside, walkers glinting shiny and black in the waning sunlight.

"Tickets!"

The voice echoed throughout out the train carriage, the woman beside them jolting awake. Alek looked up from the rim of his cup.

The door on the other end of the train carriage opened. A man in a neatly pressed uniform walked out, his face as hard as Volger's during fencing classes. A mechanical ticket shredder strapped to his waist, its old blades jammed with torn paper. The ticket inspector worked quickly, ripping the offered tickets and running them through the shredder like a wind-up machine.

Alek met Deryn's gaze. She had noticed the man too, and her German was good enough to know what he wanted. The Society hadn't been able print up counterfeit tickets for them, and all they had in their pockets were the letters and the allowance given to them. They stood up, their half-eaten sandwiches and drained coffee cups left on the bench.

Running was risky, what with all the people crowding around the train carriage and trying to remain unnoticed. So, with Deryn expertly parting the crowd, they made their way to the door; where Alek hoped they would be safe for the remainder of their trip.

But it seemed that with every step they took, the inspector's voice grew louder, his tone growing sterner the closer he got. Alek risked looking back.

Pale grey eyes met his. The man's eyes widened with realization and Alek turned, nearly tripping when he connected with Deryn's back.

"Tickets! I need to see your tickets!" The voice was right behind them now, passengers peeling away to watch.

A hand closed around Alek's arm, the grip as strong as iron.

"Where do you think you're off to, young man?"

Alek's breath caught in his throat and a cold sweat broke across his forehead. Passengers stared of course, but stayed immobile, the dead silence spreading like a virus. He could make out Deryn's blond head bobbing amongst the crowd, quickly nearing the door. She barrelled through the schoolgirls swamping in front of the door and pulled it open before looking back.

"Come on!"

A jolt spread through Alek and he thrashed in the inspector's grip, his heart beating in his ears. His elbow bashed painfully into the edges of the shredder still attached to the man's waist, the sleeve of his coat ripping. Time slowed and Alek managed to aim a sharp kick at the man's knee, the grip on his arm loosening enough for him to shake free.

"Stowaways, the both of them!"

Alek sped along the clear path, head swivelling to look back. The inspector was stumbling through the crowd in their exact opposite direction, heading straight for the engine room. Alek moved faster, the nicks on his arm blossoming into red bloodstains through his clothes.

He slipped through the door first, feet remarkably steady on the metal strip. He crossed to where the welded bolt kept the two carriages together, readying himself for the inevitable jump.

There was no chance of them hiding out on the train's cargo now, what with a ticket inspector and a whole carriage of passengers seeing their faces already. Alek just hoped that the man didn't recognize him. Because with their first plan already ruined, they would have to walk through a whole German city before reaching Bonn, and that could never be done with half the papers showcasing an article about the former Austrian prince caught stowing away.

"Alek!"

The single word sent him stumbling around. A metal claw was poised above him, its oily smell close enough to distinguish. Alek had a fraction of a second to curse the inspector for informing whoever was piloting the cargo arms about two stowaways before the claw dived straight at him.

"Mein Gott," Alek dived down just in time, the claw whooshing past above him. His trembling hands held onto the metal bolt until they turned stark white. Everything seemed to be blurred, the green of the farms mixing dreadfully into the gleaming black of the cargo arms.

A step shook the metal strip enough to make Alek look up. Deryn crouched in front of him, Bovril's head already popping out of her shirtfront. The claw dove again, this time closer. Deryn dropped almost flat onto the metal, Bovril's eyes gleaming from beneath her. The claw swung above them from seemingly all directions, making their only way of escape as going back into the passenger carriage.

Alek braced himself and looked up. Wind whipped hair into his eyes and the sun made them sting, but he could still make out the dark shape of the claw. The gears were beginning to betray how old they really were, and ground dangerously in high-pitched wails. Alek saw that a wire was stretched taunt, thin enough to break with the slightest irritation.

"Do you see that wire?" Alek said through the noise, pointing at the arm. Deryn looked confused at first, before following Alek's finger. Her eyes widened and she took out her rigging knife, the blade glittering dangerously.

"Are you sure this'll barking work?" Deryn looked up at the swinging arm above.

"Positive. It should release most of the pneumatic pressure powering the arm."

"Alright, then; I'll need a distraction though, and it needs to get close enough for the knife to actually cut through."

Alek felt her pointed stare as he nodded, his knees growing weak almost immediately. He raised himself a few inches from the metal strip, his eyes locked with Deryn's. "Ready?"

At her nod, Alek leaped up from the metal strip, raising his arms up high. The claw flexed before shooting down. His legs buckled beneath him a second too late, the rubber tips slipping against his shoulder. Pain shot through his body like white lightning.

But it seemed that the pilot was celebrating, because the cargo arm hung limp above them, the claws relaxed. Deryn stood up, her arms reaching to grasp one of the claws. She looped an arm around the claw and pulled herself up, grabbing the wire and slashing at it.

The knife sliced through the wire with a sharp twang. The pneumatic pressure flooded from the ripped wire, the arm sagging like a spent balloon.

"Barking spiders," Deryn was at his side in a heartbeat, hands wrapping around his bruised shoulder. Alek let out a gasp of pain at the contact, spine arching.

"I'm f-fine," Alek managed to say, pulling himself up. The throbbing seemed to lessen, if slightly.

"On three," Deryn moved to clasp his hand in hers, the bandages rough against his palm.

"Three," Alek looked as the blurred greens of the farmlands flashed past.

"Two," Bovril said, eyes growing wide as if understanding; which it probably did.

"One," Deryn's grip tightened and they launched off the metal strip, their clothes catching the wind.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to review!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A belated happy holidays to everyone reading this fic! **

**Writing Deryn is HARD. I stared this chapter a week after I posted the last one, and didn't write more that a paragraph of it until two weeks ago. **

**In related news: We have a new character! I've mentioned him before, and now he _finally_ makes an appearance. I don't know if he's clich****éd or not, though, so I'll leave that decision to you. **

**Reviews are like Christmas presents to me, so you can make my day awesome by leaving me one! **

**Disclaimer: If Scott Westerfeld visited me this Christmas with the rights to Leviathan, I wouldn't be here. **

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><p>The sky was the colour of a day-old bruise, the harsh purple mingling with the muddled blacks and lingering blue. Huge grey clouds loomed out in the distance, their rounded bottoms suggesting even more rain.<p>

"Barking cold," Bovril shivered underneath Deryn's jacket.

"Aye, cold," Deryn leaned against the trunk of a birch tree, her jacket hanging heavily from her shoulders in a soaked heap.

It seemed like ages since the sun had come out. Ever since their narrow escape from the_ Voyager_, the sun had decided that it didn't want them getting anywhere near Bonn, and disappeared for the whole of two days. Those two days consisted of them trudging through muddy tracks—which only made Alek's shoulder more of a burden—and finding suitable inns that would accept soaked customers in the middle of the night.

But they_ had_ passed through two Clanker villages without a hitch, and managed to get into Bonn within two days. And Deryn thought that with everything they'd been though, that was nothing short of a miracle.

"How long do you suppose we wait?" Alek asked from beside her.

Deryn sighed, her hands stopping their useless attempt at rubbing warmth into her arms. "I've no idea."

And she meant it. The letter Mr. Armbrust had sent only contained two sets of coordinates: the city they were asked to meet in, and where. So when they'd arrived in Bonn and found the secluded park at the banks of the Rhine, they had no idea _when_ he would meet them.

At first, Deryn figured that Mr. Armbrust was just waiting for nightfall because the soldiers roaming the streets lessened the later it got. But as the sun fell and the red veins of afternoon light slithered away, a new idea wormed itself in Deryn's head.

"Maybe what Dr. Barlow said was true."

"About what?" Alek winced as he stood up.

"Mr. Armbrust. Maybe he is just telling the Admiralty yackum he'd shambled together to get a pair of Darwinist agents into Clanker territory."

It made sense. Work as a double agent and make a story horrific enough to get the Admiralty's agents right in the middle of Germany, where it would be easy to set them up for the Kaiser's soldiers to capture them. That bum- rag Armbrust could be giving away their location right now; or maybe he already had, and a squad of soldiers was just waiting in the shadows for a cleaner shot.

The thought made Deryn's stomach churn. Ever since the night of her first command mission in Istanbul, the fear of getting captured had slowly grown, and working for the Society didn't help minimizing it.

"Well –"Alek began, but something made him stop.

Deryn turned, her eyes widening.

A figure sat in one of the park benches. The streetlights shining down on the slick black coat that hung from broad shoulders. He sat facing the Rhine River, seemingly unaware to them.

They turned to look at each for a moment, eyes flashing through the gloom.

Alek was the first to step forward, leaving the security of the tree's shadows. Harsh electric light lit him up immediately, giving any person close enough a more that clean shot. Deryn followed, her hand hovering just above the handle of her rigging knife.

"I sent for the Admiralty's best agents, not children." The figure said in an indistinguishable accent when they had gotten close enough.

"We're taking you're Quentin Armbrust, then? Unless of course you're just bait to lure us out into the open." Deryn said, making sure the bite in her voice could be noticed. It wasn't the first time one of the older agents ridiculed them for their age.

"I see you've managed to have a talk with that Barlow woman. She's never trusted me," The man said, finally turning to face them.

He was much younger than Deryn expected, especially since he'd been so keen on calling _them_ children. The dark skin that showed through the hood of his coat was smooth and without any wrinkles, save for a light scar that ran from his chin and into the folds of his neck. The scar looked new, and Deryn wondered if it had anything to do with the Admiralty's low regard for him.

"We work for her, actually." Alek said, stiff and princely as ever.

Something akin to recognition flashed in the man's eyes. "They've sent me _royalty_! The former prince Aleksandar, is it? I've read about you."

Alek forced a smile, clearly not happy to be recognised _at all_.

"What about you?" The man turned his gaze to her, eyes calculating. Deryn was becoming very tempted to knock some sense into his attic, just to show how valuable she really was.

She was about to answer when Bovril's head popped through the gap of her jacket buttons. "_Mr._ Sharp," it said softly, eyes wide.

Deryn pushed the Loris's head back into the folds of her clothes, meeting the man's surprised glance. "That's Bovril; one of Dr. Barlow's fabrications."

The man gave them each a long look, eyes lingering on Bovril's almost unnoticeable form through Deryn's jacket. "Quentin Armbrust. Now, let's get going, it won't take long for those soldiers to find me again."

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><p>"Barking rain," Deryn muttered, sloshing through the dark puddles. Rain was falling again, the droplets falling like bullets all around her. If it was possible, she was even wetter than before, and the weight Bovril's soaked fur only served as a nuisance.<p>

At least they were nearing Armbrust's hotel room. It was a particularly secluded one, which made it useless to ride in a taxi when it came to the smaller roads that ran like veins through the city.

"Are we almost there?" Alek asked from beside her.

"Yes, but there seems to be a problem," Armbrust said, stopping in front of them.

The hotel was between two run-down pubs, the place small and almost ready to collapse. Even with the dim light and the distance between them, Deryn could still make out the group of German soldiers waiting outside its doors. Their shadows suggested that they were mostly half-asleep, with their rifles placed carelessly beside them.

Armbrust cursed and turned around. "I know another way; follow me."

He slipped past them, turning around a sharp corner. Deryn followed, the rain stinging her eyes.

"You can't go back in there! We'll get caught," Deryn said when she'd fallen in step with him.

"Dylan's right, sir," Alek came up beside them, a hand already wrapping around his bruised shoulder. "Soldiers could be waiting up in that building."

Armbrust turned another corner before answering, "I left top secret information in the room, and I don't intend on letting those soldiers have it." He stopped.

They were inside a dark alley, the buildings rising up all around them. Ash coated the walls around them, the air bitter with chimney smoke. A rusted fire escape ran up one of the walls, the bolts holding it up groaning with its own weight.

Armbrust gestured to a window above before climbing. "Stay silent while we're going up, those other rooms are occupied."

Deryn took hold of the slippery railing and started to climb, the steps feeling like stretched out paper beneath her feet.

Miraculously, the stairs stayed in place during their climb, the rusted thing emitting soft wails of displeasure whenever they stepped too heavily. When they reached the last landing just below the window, Bovril started spouting yackum from beneath Deryn's clothes.

"Quiet down, you're going to get us caught." She pulled the Loris out, eyes never leaving the window above. It was open, and bright white light flooded from the opening.

"What's the matter?" Alek looked down at the beastie, his hands unconsciously clutching at the railing.

"I think Bovril's mimicking something, I just don't know what." Deryn pulled the wee thing closer, trying to make out the gibberish.

"Whatever it's saying; make it stop." Armbrust snapped from beside them. The man looked up at the window before jumping up and holding fast to the cemented edge. His feet scrabbled a little on the brick wall before pulling himself up and into the room.

"_Verdammt_," Alek swore, staggering back. "It's voices!"

And suddenly Deryn understood, a tremor running up her spine. The gibberish was slowly growing louder, the German words joining the ruckus of rainfall around them.

"You keep Bovril, I'm going up there." Deryn pushed the Loris into the boy's hands and reached up for the window's edge.

The scabs on her hands threatened to open again, the water gathering on the rough surface making her slip. Deryn steadied herself on the wall before heaving herself up and over. She fell to her knees on a hard wooden floor, her previously injured knee burning with pain.

Armbrust was bustling through the little room, pulling at drawers and stuffing documents into a satchel he held to his chest. A battered old record player was playing a cheery tune in one corner, the notes drowning out the noise of drawers slamming into the ground, as well as footsteps.

Deryn stood up and handed him the last document left. "We need to leave, Armbrust. There are –"

"No. Not yet," he hurried to his bed, pulling a suitcase from under it. Glass containers glistened inside it, Armbrust carefully transferring them into his satchel.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught Deryn's attention. She pressed her ear onto the wood of the door, the sound of two voices yammering on filtering through the wood. They were close; _too close._

"Blisters," Deryn said, slamming the suitcase closed. Glass tinkled and clinked inside, but Deryn had no time to notice. She hooked her arm around it, heaving it up as she crossed to the window. Armbrust swore behind her, but followed, the footsteps too loud for even him to not notice.

The door was just beginning to open when they slipped out the opening. Deryn landed on the metal floor hard enough for her teeth to clack, her vision shaking. Armbrust landed beside her, his bulk pushing Alek down the steps. Metal bolts screamed beside them, the whole thing pulling away from the wall.

Deryn felt her legs moving on their own, the suitcase still jumping about under her arm. Bolts strained and finally gave way beside her, the fire escape slowly falling away. Metal twisted and powdered cement flew into her face, the rain turning it into a gooey mess.

Her surroundings were slanted as she ran down, the ground coming faster and faster towards her. She felt the last bolts give way with a shudder and she jumped the remaining three feet down, the fire escape caving into itself like crumpled paper.

After what felt like hours Deryn's feet finally met solid ground. She felt Armbrust land beside her, and Alek's hand grabbing her arm. She turned around as he pulled her up, a cold stone of fear dropping in her stomach.

The two soldiers were looking down at them from the window, for a moment too dazzled to even speak. Then they regained their senses and began shooting.


End file.
